Love smiled, and her smile seemed to hold out a promise that it was near; but she did not speak the words, and when Kitty looked again toward the mist wall there was another picture forming itself there. If ever there was represented a vision of an untidy, jumbled-about place, there it certainly was plainly seen on the mist. Such a litter of rags, crumbs, broken toys, writing implements, and books! What was most remarkable were the lessons that were coming out of the books, and taking walks on their own account about the place, and mingling among themselves in the queerest manner. A bit of the map of China had settled itself down in Yorkshire, and there was Denmark planting itself in the Desert of Sahara; Ireland was on the top of Mount Vesuvius, which was beginning to rumble frightfully and emit huge puffs of smoke. As for history, Kitty found it quite impossible to follow its freaks; but she saw distinctly Julius Cæsar was signing Magna Charta, and the Crusaders were fighting the battle of Waterloo. Grammar and sums were trying experiments of such a complicated character there was no finding out what they were driving at. In the midst of this place sat a number of children; they had a muddled-up air, as if the walking-about lessons were too much for them. Their mouths dropped open, their eyes half-closed; they were all in tatters. They looked ashamed. If they pulled their sleeves down to hide their dirty hands, crack came a great rent at the elbows; if they pulled down their stockings into their boots to hide the holes at their heels, out peeped their knees.
“You are the untidy children,” said Kitty, nodding. “Well, you are in a muddle.”
“It was all our laziness,” said the child nearest to where she stood. He sighed so pitifully that Kitty wished to cheer him up a bit.
“Why cannot you set to and put things straight?” she asked briskly.
“Can’t,” said the boy.
“Can’t,” sighed all the children.
“Look,” said the boy. He stretched out his leg; all the children stretched out their legs. Kitty saw they had turned to stumps.
“That is because we would not run,” he muttered mournfully. “Look,” he said again. He put out his hands; all the children put out their hands. All the fingers were joined; they were like hands in boxing-gloves.
“That is because we would not use them,” explained the boy in the same dismal voice.
“As for our ideas, they are gone to sleep, and are walking about in their sleep and won’t wake up,” said the boy.